


and if it's quite alright, i need you baby

by hetahonda



Series: the isolation policy [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hetalia, Kiku Honda - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, Songfic, alfred f jones - Freeform, ameripan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hetahonda/pseuds/hetahonda
Summary: In the midst of an international epidemic, Alfred and Kiku meet one last time.
Relationships: America/Japan (Hetalia)
Series: the isolation policy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593193
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50





	and if it's quite alright, i need you baby

**Author's Note:**

> companion piece to _the isolation policy_
> 
> song in question is _can’t take my eyes off you_ by frankie valli and the four seasons

Alfred Fitzgerald Jones had two kinds of faces. Public Alfred - loud and gregarious and so sure of himself - he was a superpower in his own right and he knew it. It irked some people, charmed others, but nobody dared cross him when it really came down to it. 

And then there was private Alfred. Kind, hopeful, a little naive and still as much the 19-year-old he was all those decades ago. He had watched years and years of humanity pass him by, yet his bright blue eyes never really seemed to lose that spark like it did for so many of their peers. 

Maybe that was why Kiku liked him so much. Maybe it was Alfred’s unwavering smile even as he was lied to and yelled at by his bosses behind closed doors. Maybe it was the way Alfred read to him and rubbed circles into his back as Kiku drifted in and out of consciousness after the war. Maybe, just maybe, it was because of that one time back in the 70s - when Alfred pulled Kiku to his feet and spun him to the tune of a slow rock ballad in the middle of a bar, his blue eyes sparkling with every step they took.

Those same eyes had been watching him during the meeting, Alfred sitting quietly by his President’s side. Tension hung in the air - sticky and suffocating. The idea of the worldwide border shutdown was sitting at the back of everyones’ minds, but nobody wanted to address it. The ones who wanted to, at least, had probably already been warned by their bosses to shut up. Kiku knew Yong-soo was, anyway. 

So none of the nations spoke. Yong-soo’s gaze had been darting incessantly, as if desperate for somebody to make eye contact with him. Feliciano, for once, sat stonily in his seat without saying a word. Yao looked unbothered. Yao prided himself in being able to take all kinds of shit after four thousand years of existence, and Kiku had been silently betting on how long it would take for Yao to give up the act. 

And Alfred - Kiku recognised that look. Eyes wide, unblinking, and fixed on Kiku’s own. His usual relaxed grin was pressed into a hard line, hands folded almost too neatly on the table. _Please talk to me._

As the meeting adjourned for lunch, the sounds of chairs scraping against linoleum floor finally jolted Kiku out of his thoughts. Everyone looked pretty dazed as they got up - none of the nations had said a word for the past two hours, instead watching silently as their ministers and leaders spoke for them. Kiku was suddenly aware of how dry the back of his throat felt. 

Not like there was anything new being discussed - just the same old policies being reiterated around the table with no actual solutions. It had been a weeks’ worth of meetings around the same issue, but no one interfered. They had all seen what had happened to Allistor anyway. 

Nations and world leaders alike slowly dispersed from the room one by one, Alfred hovering by the door. His public face was still on - nodding and smiling with that tight grin of his to anyone who so much as glanced in his general direction. Arthur looked as if he wanted to approach Alfred himself, but took one look at his brother and decided against it. 

Kiku gathered his things and headed out of the room. It didn’t look like Feliciano or Ludwig were going to ask to join him for lunch anyway. 

There was a place where Alfred and Kiku would go to get unsupervised time off during American conferences. Sometimes Alfred just wanted a break from being the United States of America, away from the watchful eyes and ears of his bosses. Sometimes Kiku got tired of being Japan as well. They’d meet and talk in private - sometimes about a new video game Kiku had been eyeing, sometimes a new burger joint that had opened down the street from where Al lived, but never about politics. America and Japan talked politics, Al and Kiku did not. 

Kiku edged the door open with his foot, fumbling for the lightswitch. The room was exactly the same since Alfred and Kiku had last left it - a storage space slightly larger than Kiku’s home bathroom with nothing but a lamp on an oddly placed shelf for illumination. It was a storage room at some point of time, but Alfred’s government didn’t care enough to keep him from doing anything to it. 

So this had been their quiet little space for the past few years. It was small, it was dingy, but to Kiku, it had always felt like home.

The door creaked open as Alfred shouldered his way into the storage space. It had been a while since they’d gotten a chance to speak in person. Now that he was up close, the way Alfred’s jacket sagged around his frame and the muted sallowness of his complexion had become more apparent. Still the same Alfred though - bright blue eyes so full of life and mouth stretched into that lopsided grin that Kiku had come to adore so much. 

“You’ve lost weight,” was all Kiku managed to get out, reflectively reaching up to brush a thumb down Alfred’s cheek.

Alfred shrugged, grin unfaltering. “Yeah, well, everyone’s getting sick anyway. It’s whatever.”

“Did you want to talk?”

“Ah, yeah, about that.” Alfred frowned, chewing on his lip, as if deliberating on how best to phrase his reply. “I know we’re not supposed to do the whole politics thing here but. You know. We’re probably-“

“Not going to have another meeting in a while. I heard,” Kiku responded quietly. “It’s a virus scare. Things like this will pass. It’ll be fine.”

“It sucks.” Alfred looked unconvinced. “My entire country feels like a quarantine zone. _I_ feel like a quarantine zone. It’s depressing enough. And if I don’t even get to see you, or Matthew, or Arthur anymore because there’s not going to be any more stupid meetings, I’m gonna be seriously bummed out.”

Neither spoke for a moment. Alfred wasn’t looking Kiku in the eye, but he could tell that the younger nation was upset. Cheeks flushed in an angry - almost emotional - sort of way, hands unconsciously bunching into fists by his side, but his eyes were dry. Crying wasn’t an Alfred sort of thing to do. 

So Alfred didn’t cry. Instead, he ran a hand through his tangled blonde hair and asked, “Do you remember that time we were at Cohan’s?”

Kiku had only ever been to Cohan’s once. He still remembered that day - a cold, dreary London evening, slumped over the bar after one too many drinks. The meeting itself hadn’t gone half bad, but Kiku wanted to drink and drink until he could flush Yong-soo’s accusatory stare out of his head. Kiku still couldn’t bring himself to apologise, so Yong-soo wouldn’t bring himself to forgive.

How could he forget the way Alfred sat by his side, teetering off the back legs of his barstool as he chatted Kiku’s ear off, attempting to cheer him up? How could he forget the way Alfred eased the glass out of his hand and pulled him to his feet, asserting that Kiku was going to quit wallowing in self pity and dance? 

“That song - I can’t stop thinking about you every time I hear it,” Alfred admitted. “And the more I think about you the more I realise how much I’m going to miss you when all this blows over.”

Another silence. Kiku wasn’t the best at confronting his own emotions, let alone others’. Some part of him wanted to take Alfred’s hands in his own and tell him that he was scared too, that everything was going to be okay in the end. But Kiku was bad at talking about feelings, so he didn’t. 

“There’s been so much running through my head these past few days, but I can’t pick apart the things I want to say and I don’t want to bore you…” Alfred trailed off. “Keeks, can we dance?”

Kiku could feel his face burn with embarrassment. “Okay.”

Alfred fished his phone out of his pocket, gave it a few taps, and propped it on the shelf. 

Kiku hadn’t heard that song in decades, yet he felt his heart lurch at the tune. Alfred took his hands gently, pulling him closer. 

They stayed like this for a while, Alfred’s hands wrapped around Kiku’s own, the pair rocking slowly to the song’s beat. 

“Do you think your old man knows about us?”

Kiku wasn’t used to that word, ‘us’. It had been years of stolen kisses and private back-and-forths online, yet what they had behind closed doors still felt surreal.

“Yao? I don’t know. Does _your_ old man know about us?”

Alfred made a face. “Who the hell is that supposed to be?”

“Arthur? Unless Matthew’s been babying you so much that you’re calling your twin brother ‘dad’ now, too.”

It wasn’t meant to be funny, but Alfred let out a snort. It had been so long since Kiku had gotten a genuine smile out of him - eyes crinkled, lips pulled back in that stupid grin of his that sent Kiku’s heart soaring. 

The music began to pick up. Their steps did too. Hesitant, then bolder, more swing - Alfred beaming as he pulled Kiku along with him, Kiku laughing as he followed his gait. At that moment, it felt as if they were back in that English bar, half drunk, giggling, leaning onto each other for support. 

Nothing else had ever felt more right to Kiku in that moment. It was as if the rest of the world had fallen away outside of their little storeroom. No bosses, no brothers, no international epidemic. Nothing else mattered. It was just Alfred, Kiku, and that stupid, intoxicating feeling that Alfred put in his heart. 

“God, I think I love you.”

Alfred let out another wry snort. His eyes were glistening from behind smudged stained glasses. “That’s like, the second time you’ve ever used the L word on me.”

“Shut up,” Kiku mumbled, burying his face in Alfred’s chest. 

There was a sharp knock on the door, snapping Kiku out of his reverie. The two jerked away from each other, Alfred snatching his phone from the shelf and cutting the music off. Kiku’s heart was hammering in his chest. He felt almost sick to his stomach, the sudden silence reminding him of his place, of Alfred’s place, of their situation and how wrong they were to-

The door swung open. Kiku didn’t know whether to feel relieved or horrified.

“Alright what’s all this then - goodness.” Arthur was stunned, staring at the both of them with a slack jawed expression. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. 

Alfred looked more irritated than anything. “Artie, it’s not what it looks like.“ 

Arthur frowned, scrunching up his already thick eyebrows into a pointed glare at Alfred’s direction. “You know what? You’re technically 19. You can screw whoever the hell you want. But if you’re done, we kind of have an international crisis to attend to. Lunch ended an hour ago, Alfred.”

“Jesus, Arthur, we weren’t-“

“Nice seeing you again, Kiku,” Arthur nodded politely, turning to leave.

Kiku let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he was holding. Alfred nonchalantly scratched the side of his face. His eyes were dry, that air of self assuredness radiating off him again. “Well, I guess that’s one person who knows.”

Kiku didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say. So many thoughts were rushing through his head. Arthur knew. What was the point? What did it matter? He had so much more things to worry about, especially now, as a nation. Yet here he was, neglecting his duties for the sake of personal needs. 

And there it was. Guilt. The one damning emotion he had been torturing himself with over Alfred all this time. 

Kiku Honda had two kinds of faces. Public Kiku - reserved and hardworking and oh, so proper. Private Kiku - insecure and rash and head over heels for Alfred Fitzgerald Jones.

There was no place for that here. Not here, not now, not any time soon. Kiku turned to walk out the same way he came, not stopping to give Alfred another glance. 

“Come on, America. We have to go.”

**Author's Note:**

> i only wrote this because i love ameripan and i love that dumb song


End file.
